Clorox Bleach: Re
by Kazuki Akira
Summary: The sequel to Bleach by Tite Kubo. Ichigo Kurosaki and Rukia Kuchiki have been missing for 16 years. Suddenly, Ichigo shows up out of nowhere! But is it really Ichigo? A 14 year old Kurosaki look-alike is on the hunt to find the missing Strawberry and Chappy lover. Find out who the young boy really is, and how he seems to be much closer to the two shinigami than anyone knew.
1. Chapter 1

**Thank you to all who are taking the time to read this! This is a rewritten version of my previous fanfic, Clorox Bleach. It's.. Interesting to rewrite this, really. I'm mostly interested with doing art for this hah…**

 **Please enjoy the first chapter! I will try my best to update as soon as possible, make sure to favorite and review this story if you are at all interested in it, it does mah soul good.**

He hadn't preferred the view, though no one really would if in his position. He hardly knew any other view, but seemingly being an orphan left him with curiosities about the outside world. Light bounced and reflected in a perfectly serene room. The room was simple; as simple as teen's bedrooms were, of course. Two windows sat straight across from the door, lined in black metal. The windows were permanently opened, as the shades sat inside the middle of two bullet proof acrylic slabs of window. This allowed sun to always come in, and he didn't quite mind, especially at night, when the vast city was lit up and available for his creative mind to soak in.

The walls were an odd pastel green at the bottom, 3/4 the way up the wall was plain white. Matching the walls, the floor was also a dull white tile without any spec or colour. The room was empty, save for a screwed down wooden bed and matching wooden desk. The bed had upon it a cold blue mattress and sheets with a matching blue quilt. A thin, pale body laid fetal position in the center of the bed. The sound of the shades on the door opening and closing were the only sound echoing through the hollowed room. Screams and laughter started to echo through the hall, loud yet muffled by his walls.

He stirred. Eyes screwed shut in a scowl as he attempted to fall back into unconsciousness.

"It's 7:00am already. You need to be up. Wait in line for a shower and allow us to get your vitals before breakfast." a voice resounded after a creaking of the door. His frame shot up into a sitting position, disgruntled, he stretched out his limbs and combed a hand through a mop of unruly orange hair. Hesitant because of the light, he slowly opened his eyes to reveal pools of violet and grey. His features fell dull, no scowl or smile, but a still stare out the window as the smoke of working facilities and clouds blocked his view of the outside world. He head sunk down as if his neck gave way to exhaustion. Slowly he rolled his head to face the door on the opposite end of the room.

He saw his reflection in the closed blinds of his door. He was young. He knew his own age, 14, though he always looked at himself in reflections and wondered when he'd really stand out as a man. He smoothed out his hair quickly, allowing it to settle in a more neutral position that left it less than unkept and spiky. Reaching to the wooden cutouts under his bed, he grabbed a red sweatshirt and pair of socks to change into. He skipped showering, which his nurse would obviously scold him, for none of the workers would put it om his chart as a finished chore.

Straightening his form to seem taller than he was, he crossed his arms at the chill of the cold hospital and reached for the door handle. Noise assaulted his features immediately. Children of all ages made their way past him in different speeds, overwhelming him with their presence. He was an introvert, he knew that much, and the crowd of children storming in immediately began to tire him out.

He kept to himself, a small scowl growing on his face out of irritation. Most of these kids were like siblings to him, but he was a natural only child. He kept out of the middle of the hall and made his way to the main lounge where psych techs were waiting with two machines for taking vitals. He stood in line with a bored look, gazing upon the lunch tables laid out. They would be separated by groups as to allow less mentally ill children to coexist in a place at once. 6 tables were laid out separate from one another, each table held 4 chairs. Most children had sat themselves down at a table instead of waiting for their vitals. Morning was long and drawn out as everyone waited in their sectors for showers, waited for others to leave showers, dressed, did chores, and of course the suspenseful waiting for the food tray to come by.

This morning, no nurses were on duty, which he thought odd. He gazed at the tv sealed away in the acrylic casing, watching the slide show of charts, who's doctor was whom's for this week, which nurse belonged to who, and the round schedule for the psych techs. Caught off guard, he felt a poke at his back that brought him back to his task at hand instead of day dreaming in a daze at the screen.

"Morning Ichi." A psych tech smiled. She was young, most psych techs were still only college students in the medical field. Her blonde hair was pilled back into a ponytail, many young blond students worked as psych techs, and as a child he had thought they were all one person until he was old enough to discern facial features.

"Morning." He replied, a small smile playing on his features. One thing he liked over the years was being close to the psych techs, they were mature, quiet, and patient, which was more than he would ever ask for and he felt lighter interacting with 'normal' people. He sat on a stool beside the psych tech and waited patiently.

"Remember your name?" The psych tech, Brooke, asked. He nodded lazily.

"Ichiro Kurosaki." He replied. Brooke gave an approving smile.

"Uncross your feet Ichi, cmon." She sighed in sarcasm, grabbing a blood pressure cuff from the basket at the top of the vital machine.

"Oh.. Sorry." Ichiro quickly murmured and he unwound his feet. Brooke pulled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and wrapped the cuff around his fore arm. On the side of the basket was a small machine with a telephone cord connecting to a needle, carefully Brooke took the needle and placed a plastic strip upon it.

"Alright, put this under your tongue." She commanded, watching the vital screen. Ichiro obediently placed the needle under his tongue; it stabbed a bit at the under parts of his tongue and more than anything else he was excited to take it out.

"Your temperature is a bit low, but that seems to be something normal for you... Any pain this morning?" Brooke asked, taking the needle and disposing the plastic into a small container. Ichiro shook his head, no other pain than he was used to having for the last 10 years, and nothing the nurses could do about it.

"Next!" Brooke called out, motioning for Ichiro to leave and gazing upon the thinning line of kids. Ichiro didn't take his time getting up, he quickly moved away from the crowd and sat down at a table. It seemed the psych techs had opened the game cupboard this morning. Despite the noise, Ichiro was fond of watching the children play games, and even more so, playing the games with them.

Crossing his legs underneath him and leaning on the table, he began to drift off into a slight sleep, slight dreamlike state whilst waiting for the sound of the tray... Or more like the sound of all the children cheering at once like they had never seen food in their lives. The sound of the metal doors opening and psych techs yelling for the children to stay behind a particular red line was the first cue of breakfast approaching. A full scowl was upon Ichiro's face at this point as he placed his hands to his ears in irritation and anticipation. Children began to yell, which led as the every day ritual signal for the rest to join in and show their hunger. Screaming, banging, jumping, and stomping filled the whole wing with similar echoes further down from other wings.

"Quiet guys quiet!" A psych tech yelled, waving his arms about to at least catch their visual attention. Ichiro watched as the psych tech, Furukawa, did his part in the chaos like every morning. He enjoyed the kids and was fond of them, being a consistent figure in the morning schedule. The kids didn't have to hear Furukawa to know it was time to eat, seeing his figure next to the food cart was enough to quiet them down. Ichiro let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in as the room quieted to a normal chit chatter of overly stimulated children. Furukawa opened the first large metal car, its two doors widening to show the trays stacked neatly inside. The wing now smelled of hospital food, which wasn't as bad but the mixture of it all, along with the smell of hospital made for an interesting odor.

His large violet eyes watched as children filed out when their names were called, some returning to their rooms, some picking food before leaving the tray, others bringing their food to their clique groups. Quietly, Ichiro took his own plate, opening the black cap on his plate and reading through the different food items and calories on the receipt.

Ichiro Kurosaki

Allergies: None

One Milk

No Knives

He smirked as he read the bottom of the small paper receipt. Once the kitchen had put a knife onto his tray, Ichiro was more amused than anything but the psych techs quickly rid the wing of the small, dull, plastic item. The kitchen made few mistakes, though besides this ward and their multiple wings, the hospital had a total of 5 wards for the mentally ill. Often Ichiro found himself getting a completely different meal than what was ordered, despite the receipt telling him otherwise. Ichiro worked quickly on his eggs and oatmeal, leaving his muffin on the counter next to the sink, where the majority of older kids would leave unwanted food for either the staff or kids who wanted extras. Finishing quickly to return to his room, he sat up quickly... Too quickly perhaps, as his whole world began to spin. Motions flashing around him, Ichiro became incredibly dizzy and unaware of the floor he was standing on. He stumbled to the table and attempted to brace himself on it until his weight began to tip it. Kids began to laugh and yell as the dog piled on the other end of the table, evening it out before Ichiro fell to his knees, his tray now thrown about the floor.

"Ichiro!" Furukawa yelled, quickly pacing himself to Ichiro's side. Ichiro's vision had cleared and everything was now steady. His head ached a minor bit from the strain on his eyes, but otherwise he felt nothing out of place. He slowly made his way to his surroundings, his eyes finding Furukawa's worried face.

"Lets take your vitals again..." Furukawa said carefully, placing the tray and it contents onto the table as another psych tech made their way to clean the mess. Ichiro nodded his head and allowed himself to be dragged to a standing position by Furukawa. Ichiro wasn't sulky, nor was he confused, odd spinning spells happened once in a while and so like a robot, he followed where he was to go and sat obediently and patiently. He knew in the back of his head that someone again would be by to take his blood for testing, which was most certainly is least favorite.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 **Here Is the second chapter…. Hah…. Here it is, these chapters are coming out a bit shorter than I had originally planned but I have shortened this due to where I have placed major scene/time changes so that each change is the beginning of a chapter. What would readers like to see though? Longer chapters? I'm worried that this beginning will be dragging out too much though, input would be much appreciated since as a writer, I want my readers to be entertained to the fullest! Thank you!**

Ichiro laid upon his bed, he listened to voices, voices of children making their way back to their rooms for quiet time, voices of staff members laughing and joking, voices of being that seemingly called out to him only. Ichiro closed his eyes. The dead, he presumed, was the whole reason he was in this mess. Undoubtedly he had a dysfunctional brain. He got dizzy spells, constantly felt an aching in his chest, and saw people and creatures that were blind to a normal, non crazy person's eye.

He was crazy. Crazy. Crazy. The words repeated in his head and his thin brows furrowed and the thought. It often got to him, his lack of school and normal education, his inability to get a job, have a home of his own, be normal was all because of this. He had spent the last 10 years of his life in different wards for the mentally ill, taking multiple medications and going through the same routine every single day without change. Other kids had visitors, he did too, just not normal ones. Just not visitors that would make him at least somewhat normal in comparison to everyone else at the ward even. He knew he was the odd one out. Late nights hearing children call their parents, events and holidays where family visited and brought treats. Ichiro hadn't known a single person from his life, and not one had come to visit him like the others.

Seeing ghosts was what he hated the most. In many facts, it made him cynical about lots of things, himself especially. It wasn't just the ghosts faults, after all they weren't even real. It was his. His fault for being messed up, his fault for having odd thoughts, his fault for living in a whole other world by himself. It was an incredibly lonely world and he often saw himself as if standing on a border, though no one else was on the other side with him. He was alone, and he couldn't help but think that perhaps even this view was unreal, as he was crazy. He trusted himself with nothing, when it came to feelings, to sights, he had himself convinced that whatever he heard, felt, saw, was all of imagination. He began to numb himself to certain things, but the aching realizations were still there, and his sane mind knew subconsciously that he couldn't just escape.

Honing into one of the voices, he recognized a young, dead girl he once acquainted himself with.

"Ayu" His mind supplied. It was a hospital so why wouldn't ghosts haunt it? Because he was a crazy idiot, that's what he told himself. He was able to visualize the small transparent girl, both her hair and eyes were a shade of lifeless brown that carried no reflection of anything, bleed still seeped down her body like her head wound was one of eternal trouble. Her mouth was running, discussing and describing things to Ichiro, though with his racing thoughts her words came to deaf ears. He gazed right through her to the blank wall, specs of filling spewed across in attempt to fix whatever damage previous occupants had left.

"Oi.. Ayu, what's the news for today?" Ichiro asked quietly. Somehow these dead figures had great gossip and connection to their surroundings, and he often amused himself with asking for their thoughts and seeing if perhaps they were right, which they usually were.

"All the doctors are gone for a health meeting this mornin! They're gon cut out all their meetins' for today. It's S'pose to rain too but the psych techs still want to have an outin day! How fun!" Ayu laughed, her form coming to a comfortable sitting position in the air and hands coming out infront of her in a sort of exaggerated explanation.

Ichiro hadn't taken into consideration that today may have been an outing day, he hadn't gotten many of them, especially because besides the times of random dizzy spells, he'd also get very cramped and claustrophobic in the hospital and would lash out. His mischievous side got the best of him and already he found himself grinning in excitement. His head filled with different sensations that he couldn't grasp, but knew existed. The smells of outside, the wind, the noises, everything would be different, to have the sky as his ceiling instead of multiple floors of concrete and medicine... He felt a bit of a shiver at the feeling. He didn't hesitate to finish his chore sheet, as his conformity to the system would be the thing to allow his trip.

He had four hours left until it was time to go out to the gazing yard, where he could interact with nature and be somewhat part of the world. He sat on his bed and began to crumple under the pressure of his thoughts once again. Just because he was obedient did not give him much reason to be allowed to outside for the time. He had very minimal experiences being outside, more so were when he was younger and in the orphanage before they deemed him mentally ill. His shoulders slumped as he thought about his one and only life gone and spent in locked, guarded walls. What would it have been like to play at a park? To have gone birthday shopping, or running through snow. What had snow even felt like? What did things like pizza taste like? Things other kids gushed about in their excitement, things he never experienced.

The clock turned 1:25pm. Ichiro glanced up with heavy eye lids, it would be time where his newly assigned nurse would bring him his medication, just like everyday. The shade on his door flipped and eyes peered in before the door itself opened slowly and silently. In came a new nurse, she wasn't one he had seen before and he quickly assumed she came from another unit.

"I have your medications for this morning, Mr. Kurosaki." The nurse stated softly, slowly closing the door behind her before making any move to approach him.

It was the nurse's first time attending to the boy, coming from the adult ward she had taken up the chance to work with some of the children from the adolescent units. She wanted older children, as younger children were still a lot to deal with, but she was new with nursing and she seemed intimidated by the younger occupants of the hospital. She took in Ichiro's appearance, one of the adolescents she was given watch over for the week. He seemed innocent and harmless enough, his overall presence was not as large as his file had made him out to be. Like many of the occupants, his small frame was dejected and broken.

"Okay." Was the simple, monotone reply he gave. His face was set in a neutral expression but his large, doe-like violet eyes were filled with constant changing emotion. The nurse let out a sigh, the last thing she wanted was a battle. She was not fond of codes. Carefully shuffling to Ichiro's desk, she places down two identical paper cups, one with water, another with pills. The nurse pulled out a large bottle of liquid and a syringe, placing the syringe on the table to open the bottle's cap.

Ichiro captured her attention immediately when a sour scowl formed on his face and he visibly tensed.

"I don't want it!" He gasped out. He pressed his back up against the wall as if begging for entrance into the wall. His small body clung to the bed and he held a determined stare at the nurse, his brows furrowed. The nurse had worked with other patients before, but this was her first with a child, someone who looked so vulnerable. She wavered for a few moments, wishing she had a colder heart for the job. Ichiro had hated that particular medicine and it's side effects. He could clearly recall all that had happened while on the medication, his mind was almost completely clear. He could remember things but no thoughts occurred during the process, it was like he was watching from outside his body; especially because his body wouldn't move or respond at all.

Everything was grey and blurry in Ichiro's world under the influence of the liquid. His limbs would tingle and feel heavy, he knew they were all there but it was as if he was paralyzed. During these moments he could recall lights, colourful lights and orbs, noises and beeping sounds that made him feel sick and dizzy- like one big feverish dream... He felt stupid watching the faces of nurses attempt to making small talk to him despite reducing him to a vegetable. He was mentally ill.

Ichiro placed a pillow inbetween him and the nurse. He happened to look close to screaming.

"Hey, hey it's good for you, I promise. It'll only be a bit, you know these injections only happen once in a while." She approached him slowly with a hand out, as if trying to reason with a dog, not that he knew. In a swift motion he raised his arm, pillow in hand, as if ready to throw. The nurse quickly reacted, her arms flying up in defense and the syringe falling with a smash on the ground. The hit never came, she found. She slowly opened her eyes from her defensive position to peer at her patient, his hand was visibly lowered and his whole body slouched, but his gaze was straight out the window.

"It doesn't matter what I do.. Does it? I've been here for years... I just want to go outside." He muttered, the nurse strained to hear what he had said but could clearly see the sadness bubbling up into his eyes. Silent tears found their way down his face and he quickly hugged his arms.

"I'll take the medication." He said quietly. The nurse nodded her head and smiled.

"Thank you. I'll remember your act of self control. Logical thinking is a good sign." She said, though her expression remained stoic. Ichiro nodded his head, he knew this was bound to happen, his heart hurt and his chest began to enclose on itself, he hated himself. He hated himself for being him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter up! My drawing tablet broke so while internally crying I decided to make the cover traditionally. Now, I was asked a question in the review section: "What happened to Ichiro? Is he an orphan?"**

 **Sorry friend but I will not be answering your question, not in this chapter at least! Background, set ups, ect. Will all be explained in the story. Thank you for reviewing, it made me really motivated haha- plus your question was great and I'm glad there are readers that are thinking about things like that. I love questions though! Thank you for reading!**

 **Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow**

 **Link to the cover art:** **sta. sh/01h5q9 4m0psm (Get rid of the spaces**

Ichiro's eyes watered and for the first time in an hour he felt his face once more. He gasped out a breath, feeling his lungs tingling back into his field of existence. His muscles ached quite a bit and he rasped out a small noise. He was in his room, where he was left and where he had been given the medicine. The medicine seemingly helped absolutely nothing, he always felt weaker, always. He peered slowly about his room, it was hard and a terrible pain began to crawl up his spine in retaliation. Many of the dead's voices were quieter, some couldn't be heard at all by Ichiro's own ears, he assumed this was what the medication was to do; Destroy his body but clear his mind- or something like that. He stared blankly at the digital clock within his room and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he was able to read and create thoughts according to the time. It would take an estimated half hour before his body was completely movable and his mind cleared, though the after effects were still painful and left him feeling like he was much older than he truly was.

Ichiro's consciousness wavered, he felt himself in and out, but not quite one or the other, but it was a knock on his door that forced him back to his reality. Time had been sapped away and before he knew it, he was sorely able to move more freely. It was Furukawa who made his way in slowly, smiling sheepishly and waving like he had just met the orange headed boy.

"Keh," Furukawa laughed out, earning an odd gaze from Ichiro. Furukawa grinned and placed a hand under his chin "it always shocks me, seeing your hair. One would think you bleached it!" Ichiro's face instantly went sour and his hands flew up to his head, attempting to cover up each and every hair.

"Wha-what did you bust in here for!?" Ichiro rasped out. Furukawa let his more mischievous grin settle into a kinder smile.

"The doctors aren't in today so your nurses are in charge... I guess your nurse must have really liked you. She's allowing you to go into the gazing yard." Furukawa explained. Ichiro's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he felt his face flush with excitement. His feet swung off the bed and he fought a wince at moving his limbs once again, but he didn't quite mind it as much as he may have in the past. He was ecstatic. He breathed in a mighty breath of air and his head seemed to clear up' peering out the window he saw the sun he would soon have the luxury of basking under.

Ichiro gathered himself, placing on his slippers and heading out of his room down the hall. A line of children stood with three psych techs, one with a clipboard stating the freedoms of the different children.

"Am I on the list to go to the gazing yard?" Ichiro asked the tech with the clipboard. The psych tech, a man named Jirio, scanned through the papers quickly with hawk-like eyes.

"Kurosaki?" The man asked quickl. Ichiro nodded his head enthusiastically in assurance.

"Looks like its your lucky day. Huh. You must've been really good recently." The psych tech commented, approving Ichiro's going. Ichiro felt his face light up and he couldn't keep a bright smile off his face.

This was it.

This really was it.

Ichiro made his way out into the courtyard along with a select few other children who were lucky enough to actually leave the domain of the hospital. The 'Gazing Yard' as it was called was at one specific end of the hospital, and unlike the rough city streets and buildings that the hospital windows showed, the gazing yard was located right off a city park.

A large fence separated the children from the rest of the greenery. Ichiro loved the smell of the grass and the distanced voices of everyday average people. The park was like a vast haven to him, within the fence were trees, grass, and a few metal picnic tables. Beyond the fence though was the celestial place he wished to grasp. Dogs and children ran, people laughed, walked, birds flew by. A bus stop in the distance was picking up businessmen, a child to the left of his peripheral vision lost their balloon. The trees created a sort of circular barrier around the park it seemed, while the middle was a cleared plane of grass. Pavement curled in and out of the park like a big maze, and just through the trees could you see the rest of the city life moving about.

Without fear or even the slightest care in the world, Ichiro flung himself backwards, landing with a thud and a beating ache in the back of his head. He felt the back of his head pulse and instinctively closed his eyes with the contact of the sun. The blue sky speckled with puffs of cloud was laid out before him. Ichiro hadn't a care in the world of his physical pain. The feeling of his pulsing head, his burning eyes, the heat on his cheekbones, the slight movement of hair in the wind, the grass tickling his neck, the vaguest feeling of something small moving on him... These were the feelings he longed for, feelings and sensations he hadn't been able to have once upon a time.

"Ichi! Did you hurt yourself?" A child called, sprinting near Ichiro's prone body. Ichiro let out a long, hearty laugh.

"No! Isn't it nice out here?" He exclaimed, spreading out his arms and legs. It was easy for him just to sit by, most of the kids played off elsewhere or sat at tables to gossip about other wards, but he was still, merely watching the clouds drift.

It took a few moments before Ichiro finally sat himself up. His body felt over heated, the hospital was cold but outside had a kind of heat that Ichiro wasn't used to. With quick slumping of his posture, Ichiro glanced out of the fence only to notice a young woman stopped and staring at the children. Ichiro quickly stiffened and felt shameful, he was locked in a hospital and here this woman was openly staring at him and the others. Ichiro ducked his head down to hide his face. The woman was beautiful, she sported a jean skirt and white striped tank-top, her hair was a burnt orange colour. This made Ichiro even more self conscious though and he found himself slowly making his way to a psych tech and requesting to hide within the building once again. The psych tech sighed but understood. Kurosaki especially hated himself and situation. He loved normal people but he was far too ashamed of himself to ever present himself before them.

Orihime Inoue found herself gaping and probably even rudely staring at a crowd of children within the hospital. Her lips parted and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. All she could hear and feel was the deep beating of her heart.

"K-Kurosaki-kun..." She gasped out so quietly she was even unaware she had said the name. The boy within the fence looked like Ichigo. It was hard to make out his features but Orihime knew deep down in her heart that this had to have been the boy she and her friends have been searching for for so long. The boy seemed to have noticed her and she watched his frame straighten before hiding his face and running to one of the people there. Orihime felt a pang of guilt seeing him run, but it was his height that confused her. He wasn't short, but he was certainly shorter than Ichigo. Could it have truly been Ichigo? Closing her eyes she felt the spirit pressure around her. The boy had spiritual pressure, but it was broken up and weak. How many orange haired boys with spiritual pressure could there be in Karakura? Orihime clenched her fists and set her expression into one of determination.

As soon as the Kurosaki look-alike was out of sight, Orihime made a run for the Urahara Shoten. Her legs lifted her with grace but each movement was dire. Her chest burned and the muscles of her diaphragm twisted and seemed to shrivel up with every new step. Orihime puffed out a shaky breath, she wasn't about to let anything to stop her from getting this news to the soul society at the very least.

The door to the Urahara Shoten opened with a burst of power, startling Jinta and Ururu. Orihime's form shown through the door. Orihime hadn't even given the two smaller occupants a second glance as she rushed deeper into the store.

"Urahara-san!" Orihime screamed with an unsteady voice. Urahara glanced up in alert at the commotion, it wasn't often that someone came with cries for help to the old store.

"Inoue-san, what a pleasure!" He quipped quickly, placing his signature fan over his mouth.

"Urahara-san you have to contact everyone! I've found Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime cried out.

"Are you sure it's Kurosaki?" Urahara asked, his eyes narrowing and darkening.

"He has a spiritual pressure! It's messed up... Something has been messing it up... But I know it's him! I've never been wrong!" Orihime explained eagerly. Her face was flushed and full of sweat and her hair was in a state much crazier.

Yoruichi's small cat form slunk into the room and found her way to a spot beside Urahara.

"I'll contact the captains then." Urahara decided.


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapter! Thank you Milo for your review, it was so well said and wow I melted in happiness seeing it. Thank you! I have a lot of ideas for this rewrite, the original version was finished but… Its lacking many, many things and already I feel like this is a lot fuller and more fulfilling over all. I don't have an exact plan but I'm following the standard plot of my original Clorox Bleach, with obvious changes and differences.**

 **I really enjoyed the idea of a mental hospital and I actually spent 3 months in one (wowie) so rereading this I basically facepalmed and moaned at younger me. A lot of the mental hospital setting is based off of the ward I was placed in for a month and a half.**

 **I'm hoping to make him mostly sane, because of the fact that he is actually mentally healthy. He will have random outbursts and I hope to make him seem like a time bomb at some points as he has hormones as well as little to no skills to cope with his lot in life. Being stuck in a situation like this does mess with you, but he's still sane enough for this story ;)**

 **I'm hoping that I can stick to the characters well originally since wow I love Bleach. It was my childhood show and now I'm getting right back into my horrible Bleach phase and it reminds me why I love everyone ack x.x The reunion between Ichiro and his parents will undoubtedly be… something. I have ideas, ideas I do have. I am a fan of emotions and angst so expect something at least.**

 **THANKS FOR READING THIS!**

 **Favorite, follow, and review if you can. Give your thoughts guys, if you like it show a little appreciation cause writing is hard as hell wow it would inspire me much**

Ichiro's fingers trembled as they intertwined with one another, fiddling back and forth in anxiety. His eyes strained to look back at the clock while feigning ignorance, stubbornly trying to stare at his hands at the same time. Passersby quirked eyebrows and left their gaze on him longer than comfortable. Ichiro was very aware of what was happening, too aware. His eyes couldn't get enough of the scenery, the plain simple hospital scenery he was used to. His body shook and trembled and he felt cold, the cold felt even worse with the hot sweat that dripped from his forehead. His forehead felt like an oven.

He knew things were changing.

"Ichiro, please settle down. Would you like some ice? Maybe it's better to use some distress tolerance skills." Furukawa commented, bending down to meet Ichiro's low gaze. Ichiro crossed his feet on the chair, a shiver struck his spine but that was the only movement he made. His eyebrows furrowed after noticing that Furukawa was there for seemingly half an hour, though it was only a minute or so.

"Do you want cards? Your therapy binder?" Furukawa asked, he wanted a response from the boy. Ichiro's glare struck upwards and met Furukawa's unsuspecting eyes.

"I want to be left alone!" He demanded, clenching his fists together and squeezing his eyes shut.

Ichiro was afraid. It was after dinner and kids lined up at the phone while nurses on the other side of the glass pressed buttons and transferred calls. Parents and family would soon be visiting, but unlike any other night, Ichiro too had a visitor. His gut twisted and he felt the dire need to sit down and vomit. His nurse had announced a visitor, and his mind sped up and began to scan every person he may have knew. Vague silhouettes of his parents flashed into his head, many faces of young children scattered about, some he remembered from the foster care system, some from the orphanage, some from different wards, but most blending in together to where he couldn't quite remember who was from where.

Who was coming for him? If he was being moved he got sooner notice. He had high nerves, he always had, they had grown with him. He got taller, his voice got deeper, his eyesight shifted, his anxiety flared. Something was about to change and he knew it, his whole being felt it and despite his antics he almost wanted to cling to his makeshift hospital bed. It was safe here, its all he knew. Ichiro felt a sudden pang resonate through his body that instantly caused him to straighten up. Everything slowed down into slow motion.

"Kurosaki-san, your visitor is here. For the sake of privacy we would like you to meet in your room." A nurse stated, behind her was another woman. The woman seemed docile, her hands were grasped together across her chest and worry plastered on her face. She had long burnt orange hair piled together in a ponytail. Ichiro found himself sinking away from her grey eye'd gaze. His face burned even more and he noticed her shape from the gazing yard. He felt humiliated and furious all at once but it came out in the form of a slump of his back and a steady glare at the floor. He hadn't wanted the woman to see him, he felt like hiding. He felt ashamed.

"Go away! I'm dirty!" He wanted to scream. Ichiro took notice of the feeling of his chair on his back end, just a little power and he could knock it backwards, use the distraction to bolt. Where? Where though? Bathrooms were locked, there was no going in or out. Ichiro felt like his body had shut down. Special meals, being bathed, having staff watch you use the bathroom, asking to change clothes, asking for medicines, for hygienic items, having the weekly crevice search. Ichiro felt like an alien who had no body of his own. Ichiro's legs slowly lifted themselves robotically and he found himself sulking to his room.

Plunking himself down on his bed, Ichiro meditated on the silence. He felt the woman's burning gaze on the top of his head. Slowly it felt like something in him was rising, about to burst. Ichiro's shaky movements led to him grabbing his bed quilt and in quick, messy movements he wrapped himself up in it and placed his back towards the girl. He felt overheated but the blanket helped as a comfort.

Ichiro heard the woman take an intake of breath. She slowly let her breath out.

"Kurosaki-kun," She started quietly. Her voice was soft and gentle but sounded just as frightened as he felt. "is that your name?" She continued. The silence continued but Ichiro began to shift uneasily. Thoughts raced through his ears and if he saw ghosts then he was positive someone could see steam coming from his ears.

"Why have you come to visit me...?" Ichiro asked. His voice cracked and shook but Orihime was positive after hearing it that it was not Ichigo's. She lowered her face to look at her hands, which were now clasped tightly by her lap.

"You look like someone I know... Someone who has been gone for 16 years now." Orihime explained. Ichiro tilted his head carefully to glance a look at his visitor.

"His name is Kurosaki... He was a fun person. He was very strong, and kind. He had bright orange hair and got into lots of fights! He was a delinquent, oh but he was also very smart and responsible! He saved me... And a lot of other people too." Orihime explained, her voice growing louder and more enthusiastic as she continued.

"He's been gone, along with someone named Rukia Kuchiki... Kuchiki-san was Kurosaki-kun's best friend. They were always together..." Orihime's voice grew quieter again and she glanced up at the illuminated silhouette of the young mental patient. Ichiro slothfully pulled himself to face his visitor, pulling down his protective sheet so that his face was revealed, allowing the sheet to drape at his shoulders.

"I-I'm not the Kurosaki you're talking about." Ichiro stated. His voice was hard and straight, his head faced completely forward though his eyes adverted her placement altogether. Orihime watched each of his movements with wide eyes. It was more than obvious that he was some form of Ichigo, whether he knew it or not, though he was not Ichigo himself.

"But you are a Kurosaki!?" Orihime asked, her voice far louder than she intended or could even help. Both of her arms found themselves at her side, it was a gesture that may have seemed violent but her eyes carried only compassion and concern. Ichiro figured to himself that the woman probably couldn't even kill a fly.

"Sure that's my name but I don't know who I am! I don't know who I am. I'm just me.." Ichiro responded. Ichiro felt terribly agitated... How dare this girl come in here demanding someone else. She didn't know him... His first visitor, someone who just wished he was someone else. His lips grew into a cynical grin, catching Orihime off guard. Of course, fate brought them together because they both wanted something very dear, a singular same thing; For Ichiro to be someone else.

"Sorry but you have me, Ichiro Kurosaki! I'm not some hero. I've lived long enough wishing I was one to tell you that you'll be disappointed. I'm not morphing into someone else anytime soon." Ichiro ended in a scowl. His voice was deeper than it previously was. His scowl looked too similar to Ichigo's with the difference being his off putting grin.

Orihime shifted on her feet before turning away from the boy.

"I'll be back. I promise..." She said quietly, taking her leave and opening the door. Ichiro's head hurt. Who was she? How dare she? Coming in and for what... what? Not him. No one ever came for him. He let out a piercing scream and in few sudden movements hurled his pillows at his wall. He wanted to break something, break things. As if living in a sheltered hell wasn't bad enough... to rub it in his face. He was an animal, and everyone else were demons. He hated himself, his hands clutched his head as he continued to scream. His throat felt dry and began to have stabbing pains. His mind couldn't process the decisions to make: Pull his hair, or scratch at his throat? Psych techs attempted to enter his room, struggling at first to get the door unstuck on the pillows.

"Get out!" Ichiro yelled. His fists moved faster than his mind could, quickly using force to get the undesired guests out of his room. Everything was an angry blur, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to be alone.

The world was dark and a large white line divided it in half. Ichiro stood on one side, blank faces shuffled around on the otherside. He felt cold, it was dark, and it was lonely. He couldn't cross over the border to everyone else, he was in solitude. Once in a while, a face would notice him, and collectively they all pointed, all stared, and laughed. He wanted to hide away. Why was he there? Why couldn't he cross. Some would cross over to trick him, to show him a sliver of comfort before disappearing onto the other side. He wanted someone to stand next to him. Once again, everyone stopped to laugh. He couldn't take it. The time bomb in his stomach turned and he no longer cared if it was to blow.

"I'll blow away this border. Blow away those people. Blow away myself." Ichiro thought, clenching his fists.

"Call a code!" A nurse yelled down the hall.

The last Ichiro heard was the sirens and voiceover repeating "code 21, east, 7I.T.C"

Toshiro Hitsugaya breathed in the air of the human world once again. It had been a long while since he was sent here, especially after the disappearance of Rukia Kuchiki and Ichiro Kurosaki. Their disappearance sent much confusion and turmoil through the soul society. Sui-feng had confirmed the disappearance of the two valuable shinigami and it was decided that the matter would be presented to the head captain. The head captain wasted no time to go to extreme matters, captains and squads were sent out throughout soul society, Hueco Mundo, and the human world to find the two. Spiritual energy traces were followed until even they began to fade with time, leading to nowhere. Tension grew as they were stood up at the winter war. Aizen hadn't shown his face since that day, the war had come and the arrancars fought fiercely with the shinigami... But Aizen himself hadn't shown up. Head Captain Yamamoto Genryusai immediately decided that something was up, and something perhaps much worse was heading their way.

They searched for the two while kept security up, 16 years passed like the slow removal of a bandaid. It was like dice in the air, none of them knew what was to happen at any time, and all suspected the worst at every moment. It was tiresome, waiting for disaster, and even more irritating of the whole ordeal was the fact that undoubtedly, Aizen was behind it. He knew when to strike, he had some sort of plans. The Soul Society planned the best they could, the academy worked over time training the future shinigami to the ground. Current shinigami trained constantly, many over achievers could be found, but only because they were motivated by fear.

Anxiety coursed through Toshiro's veins. The soul society had minimized its search in the later years, but everyone was watching their backs. Stepping into the human world was only proof of a new step in whatever plans were beginning to move once again. Was this too calculated by Aizen? Had Orihime stumbled upon something she wasn't supposed to? It was hard to say what possibly could be happening in the new shift of things, but a shift it was for sure.

Rangiku Matsumoto watched her captain with weary eyes, she could tell by the stress on his brow and in his chin that he was thinking deeply. She was sure he was thinking something similar to what she too was thinking of. Her captain was smart, a prodigy, but it was common sense now that there was one subject lingering in the minds of all the shinigami. This was their biggest clue in quite some time, it wouldn't be odd to find it being a trap of some kind. Aizen was shady, for things to be so peaceful in terms or wartime and now this...

"Captain, what should our first movements be?" Matsumoto asked carefully.


End file.
